


When the Daylight All Goes Round

by fried_flamingo



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Minor Violence, SHIP IT LIKE FEDEX, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fried_flamingo/pseuds/fried_flamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake is forced into hiding when it seems like Freddy Maliardi's back on the scene.  Amy's tasked with being his security detail in the safehouse, but it's a task that comes with it's own pitfalls.  Namely, keeping Peralta pinned down when there's a case involving the one that got away to be solved - and keeping their feelings pinned down while living under the same roof.</p><p>Set after 'Defense Rests' but before 'Boyle-Linetti Wedding'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soup and a sandwich

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've written in approximately 6 years and it feels like popping my cherry all over again. But this show and this ship sorta grabbed me and wouldn't let go. It's a beautiful thing.
> 
> I'm seeing this as being around 9-10 chapters, and I don't think it'll go anywhere too dark. But there might be some punching, maybe some blood-spatter, definitely some inappropriate touching.
> 
> Hope it works.
> 
> Thanks to [Salr323](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Salr323/pseuds/Salr323) for her awesome beta.

They were eating lunch in a park in Mapleton when Jake realized Freddy Maliardi was back in town. It was a sucky thing to happen because, up to that point, it had been a pretty good morning. Amy was on another of her frugal schemes and had brought some weird cabbage and mackerel salad from home, and when she’d opened up the plastic container, Jake had done the only thing appropriate in the circumstances – which was spray it with the de-icer from the glovebox. That turned out to be a mistake, because it didn’t get rid of the smell and he was subsequently forced to buy Amy lunch. 

So he’d taken her to Barney’s Kitchen on 59th where they got their food to go and, because it was a sunny day - and because they needed to escape the odor of chemicals and fish that stank out the sedan – they’d gone to the park to eat it under a tree. She’d groused about getting her pants dirty on the grass, so he’d let her sit on his jacket, just to stop her complaining. The leather would wipe clean anyway.

“I don’t understand how you can criticize my choice of lunch when you’re eating what is basically a heart attack on rye. How are you not the size of Scully?” 

“I have the metabolism of a hummingbird, Santiago. Although my sexual stamina is that of a mountain bison,” said Jake, leaning back against the tree. “Besides, brisket is a perfectly acceptable filling for a sandwich.” He took a bite to prove his point.

Amy wrinkled her nose. “Not when you get macaroni salad on it.”

“The carbs are there to balance out the three inches of fats and meat.”

She shook her head. “When you reach the point of measuring your food in inches, Jake, I think it’s time to re-evaluate your dietary choices.”

“My dietary choices?” He fixed her with a blank look. “You’re eating beef vegetable soup.”

“Beef vegetable soup is a perfectly acceptable lunch selection,” she said. She had that defensive set to her brow that made his lips quirk in a smile and prompted him to needle her further.

“It’s July, Amy. Soup is not a July food.”

“Soup is non-seasonal. In fact, I like to make soup all year round.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You make soup? Well, that must taste not at all like garbage water.”

She glowered at him, but as she looked away he was pretty sure he saw a reluctant grin.

He sat forward, ready to tease some more, but the angle let him see further down the park and out of the gate, and that’s when he spotted him - one of Freddy Maliardi’s goons. Tony or Tommy – Jake couldn’t remember his name off the top of his head, but he did know that he’d disappeared right along with Freddy in that plane. And if Tony (or Tommy) was back…

He stood, his sandwich forgotten, hand moving to his gun. Without asking what was going on, Amy was at his side, her hand on her own sidearm.

“What do you see?” she asked, scanning the park.

But a truck had passed along the street and in those few seconds, the goon was gone. “We’ve gotta get back to the precinct,” said Jake.

***

“Tommy Farina.” Jake slapped the brown folder down on Captain Holt’s desk. “He was one of Maliardi’s right hand men. We arrested him during the sting, but had nothing on him. We had to let him go, but witnesses put him on that plane along with his boss. And if he’s back in town, there’s a chance that Freddy is too.”

Holt leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. He looked down at the file, but didn’t open it. “You’re certain it was him.”

“I’d stake my collection of Disney novelizations on it, sir.”

Amy snorted. “First of all, I don’t think you can classify Disney books as novels. And second of all, you collect Disney?”

“It reminds me of a simpler time,” said Jake, “but I think you’re getting off topic here, Amy.”

“But it was you–”

“Detective Peralta’s right. Let’s stay focused, shall we, Detective Santiago?”

Amy pressed her lips together and tried in vain to ignore Peralta’s smirk. Thankfully, he turned back to the captain. “Sir, forgive me for saying this, but you don’t seem very surprised about this.”

“I’m not,” said the chief. “I’ve known for some time that Maliardi could be back in Brooklyn. Special Agent Marx contacted me last week. They’ve had eyes on him in his hideout in Colombia for some time, but then two weeks ago he disappeared from their radar. They suspected he’d come back here.”

“And you didn’t tell me? Captain, you know I’ve been itching to put Maliardi away for months. He’s the last loose end that’s still to be tied up from when I was undercover.” 

“Peralta, this is a Federal case. If it’s going to be tied up, it will be by the Bureau. Maliardi might not even be back in Brooklyn, but if he is, you can’t make this a personal matter.”

Amy cleared her throat. She didn’t much like standing up to the captain, but sometimes it was necessary. “Sir, with all due respect – and might I say that is a lot of respect – I think you’re mistaken. Jake’s right. You should have told him.”

“Excuse me?” said Holt.

“Excuse him?” echoed Jake, a flicker of a smile on his face, but not his usual mocking kind.

“I mean to say, that is, if Maliardi and his crew really are back in town, then it’s already a personal matter. For Detective Peralta, I mean. Because there’s really only one reason he’d return to the district.” She looked between the two men and saw understanding dawn in Jake’s eyes. “If he’s your loose end, Jake…”

“Then I‘m his.” He blew out a breath. “He’s back to kill me.”

“I think that’s a safe assumption,” said the captain. “We have to take immediate action.”

Jake clapped his hands together. “Now we’re talking. I’ve still got an informant in Fort Greene. I’ll give him a call–” 

“No, Peralta, that’s not the action I meant. It’s likely that an attempt will be made on your life. You will not make yourself more of a target. Detective Santiago, you and Diaz will escort Peralta to the safe house.”

“What?” cried Jake. “No, sir, you can’t! You gotta let me catch this creep.”

But Holt just shook his head. “Detective, I applaud your commitment to duty, I honestly do. But the FBI is more than capable of finding Maliardi.” The captain sighed and regarded Jake with what was almost an affectionate look. Jake, infuriatingly, seemed oblivious. “Furthermore, I will not risk one of my best officers on a case that will directly endanger his life. Tell Santiago what belongings you need from home and she’ll collect them for you. But you will go straight to the safe house and you will not move from there until this man is caught.”

Jake closed his eyes and his head dropped forward; it was obvious that any further pleas to the captain would fall on deaf ears. Amy felt for him. She knew how important this case had been to him, how much it had gotten to him. So much so that he’d professed some sort of attraction to her, though she still suspected that it had just been some freak out on his part, despite what he’d said when he got back. Never mind the fact that Teddy had been certain that Jake still harbored those feelings, and that she secretly returned them. Never mind the fact that she still sometimes caught those glances he’d give her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the glances she fought not to return.  
All of that was nothing, she knew, just an odd residue of a confession that was nothing but the by-product of adrenalin. The undercover case had been a huge thing for Jake, and it was clear he was determined to see it through. She wished she could help him, but the truth was she didn’t want to. This was too dangerous and she wanted him as far from the firing line as possible.

“C’mon, Peralta, let’s go. I’ll get your Little Mermaid books and your mix tapes and I’ll meet you and Diaz at the safe house.”

Jake hung his head in defeat. “Alright. But I’m in more of an Aristocats mood. Also make sure you pick up my paisley jammies. I can’t wear anything else to bed. They're classy, and the crotch has just the right room to hold my junk without making it sweaty.”

“Ewww!” said Amy, and pushed him out of Holt’s office.

***


	2. Four walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy are faced with the reality of staying in the safehouse

Jake had forgotten how small the safe house was. The last time he’d been here was with Captain Holt and it had only been for a few hours. It felt more claustrophobic knowing that those powder blue walls were going to be his life for the next few days, or perhaps longer if the FBI didn’t have their foot on the gas.

“Why does this place smell like Atopalm?” asked Rosa, scowling at the room.

“Oh yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” said Jake. “The last person who used it was some hooker informant for a case Charles was working on. He said she had many, many rashes.”

“That’s disgusting,” said Rosa. “How would he even know?”

“Wouldn’t wanna ask,” replied Jake. “Hey, Rosa, how much would I need to pay you for you to turn your back and let me sneak out of here?”

“Five hundred bucks,” she said, without missing a beat.

Jake brightened. “Really? Great! I thought for sure you wouldn’t be open to bribery. So, can you loan me five hundred dollars?”

“G’night, Peralta,” said Rosa, heading for the door. 

“Wait, aren’t you and Amy supposed to be babysitting me?” he said and then pursed his lips. “You know, that sounds very much like the plot for a movie I watched recently.” 

“Santiago just texted. She’s outside. And no, I am not going to be your designated babysitter. I’ve got my own case to work tonight, so Amy’s volunteered to stay with you.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “When you say ‘volunteered’, you mean she actually wanted to stay here with me? And when you say ‘stay’, you mean…?”

“Yep, you and Santiago will be playing house here while Maliardi’s on the loose.” If Jake didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn that Rosa smirked as she added, “Don’t get too cozy now.”

She reached the door just as it opened to reveal Amy on the other side, grappling with three grocery bags and two carry-alls over her shoulder. “Nighty night, detectives,” called Rosa as she headed for the stairwell. 

Amy watched her go with a bemused look. “Was she laughing?”

“Either that or she was having a seizure,” said Jake, hoping Amy wouldn’t ask what Diaz had found so funny. 

“What was so –?”

“Hey! You need some help with that? ” He grabbed the paper bags and carried them to the kitchen counter. "Did you get me Gummy Bears like I asked?"

“Yes, Peralta, I got you Gummy Bears.” She slid one of the carry-alls off of her shoulder and onto the couch.

“Great! Did you get me those files on Maliardi like I asked?”

Amy glanced back at the door and kicked it closed when it was clear that Rosa was long gone. Then she reached under the back of her jacket and pulled out the brown folder that was tucked into her pants. “I am not comfortable with doing this.”

“Title of your sex tape,” he said almost absent-mindedly as he thumbed through the file. “There must be something in here that’ll tell us where Freddy’s hiding out, if he’s not at any of his usual haunts.”

“You know that the Feds will have scrutinized that very same file. They came up blank.”

Jake glanced up and cocked his head. “The Feds don’t have the razor-sharp Peralta mind. They’ve obviously missed something.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure the finest criminal investigators America has to offer met their match in the case of a two-bit mafia hood. If only they had Jake Peralta among their ranks.” She dropped the other carry-all on the couch – it was pink and had some sort of fuzzy pom-pom attached to the zipper. It definitely was not something that had come from his apartment.

“That sure is a lot of stuff,” he said, walking over to stand next to her. “Santiago, we’re spending one night in a safe house less than two miles from where you live, not going on a cruise.”

She straightened to face him and crossed her arms. “Jake, this is not going to be a one night thing.”

The way she said it made his stomach flip and he felt the need to deflect. “Title of your… Oh. Never mind. That doesn’t quite work.”

She scowled and shook her head. “The point I’m making is that it’ll take longer than twenty-four hours for them to catch this guy. So we’re here for the duration.” She glanced over at the folder. “And no matter how much you study that case file, there’s nothing you can physically do. You’re stuck here with me until Maliardi’s in custody. It’s up to the feds now.”

“You can’t make me stay here.”

She tilted her head with a smile. “Can’t I?”

Jake swallowed. “You’ll have to cuff me.”

Her hand went to her belt and, pulling out a set of cuffs, she swung them in front of his face. “Don’t test me, Peralta.”

Mental images swarmed his brain, but he swatted them away and instead focused on what was important. “So,” he said, “did you bring my mix tapes?”

***

“This movie is terrible.” It had been three hours since Amy had locked the safehouse door, effectively sealing them in for the foreseeable future. Jake was not handling it well and her choice of on-demand movie was bearing the brunt of his ire. “I mean it makes gross generalizations about an entire sub-culture based purely on stereotypes. It’s racist. You are making me watch a racist movie, Detective Santiago.”

“Jake, it’s Space Chimps. It’s a cartoon about monkeys”

“Aha! Case in point! Chimpanzees are not monkeys. They are a member of the great ape family. Watching this movie has turned you into a racist, Amy.” He shook his head and slumped back on the couch. “I can’t decide if I’m angry or just disappointed.”

Amy sighed and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl that sat on the couch between them. “Okay, so they’re apes. Still not a race. More a different species.”

“Then you’re species-ist.”

“Peralta, you really need to relax,” said Amy, popping some corn into her mouth.

Jake swiveled round to face her. “Amara Juaneta Santiago, are you honestly telling me to relax?”

Amy stuck out her jaw, not wanting to even question how he’d discovered her full name. Though the way he said it, she didn’t mind so much. “I just think you’re maybe a little bit frustrated that Holt isn’t letting you play a part in this hunt for Maliardi. I get it. You like to be hands-on.”

“Yes,” said Jake, and something in his tone made her reluctant to meet his eye. “I do like to be hands-on.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head as if trying to dislodge something from his ear. “Whatever, I’m just getting a little stir crazy here.”

“Stir crazy? Peralta, it’s been three hours. Haven’t you ever stayed in the same room for more than three hours before?”

He rolled his shoulders. “Not in these circumstances. Waiting around doing nothing makes me antsy.”

“You know, we don’t have to watch TV. We can always just talk,” said Amy. On impulse, she grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Immediately she regretted it, because the only light in the room then came from one small table lamp in the corner of the room. The subdued glow was cozy, intimate almost. The shadows picked out the shape of his cheek, the strong line of his jaw, and she suddenly wished for the cartoon light of ‘Space Chimps’.

Jake blinked and his gaze darted away to stare at some point over the top of her head. He shifted in his seat. “Umm, yeah, we can always talk about… stuff.”

Amy realized where his thoughts had gone. “No!” she said, “Not that stuff. Uh, I mean, we’ve talked about that stuff and it’s all fine.” And they had talked about it; or rather they’d been forced to talk about it by Teddy, and then Sophia, and then Charles. And she suspected that maybe Diaz and Gina had dropped their nickelsworth in Jake’s ear. They were all talked out about that stuff and yet not one word spoken had brought them any further forward than they’d been a year ago. It was a dead topic.

“Oh,” said Jake, his expression inscrutable in the half-light. “Then what should we talk about.”

“Well, I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

“What do you normally talk about with Gina and Rosa?”

She laughed. “Are you kidding me? Gina’s favorite subject to talk about is Gina. And I recently heard Rosa listing ‘conversation’ as one of her pet hates. Us girls don’t really share so much as I’d maybe like.”

“No way! So you’re telling me the pillow fights I’ve always envisioned you having in your panties are entirely fictional?” 

Amy smiled. “I’m afraid so.”

He shrugged. “So who do you talk to about stuff?”

“Well, I guess…” She was about to say ‘I guess you, Jake’, but it was too much. The low light had gotten to her and she was feeling way more comfortable that she should have been. In truth, Jake Peralta was the only person from the nine-nine that she felt truly comfortable talking to, but she could never tell him that. “I guess my _yaya_ ,” she hedged.

Jake frowned. “Your grandmother? Didn’t she die?”

“Not her,” said Amy. “My other grandma.”

“Your best friend is your grandma. That is sad and sweet on so many levels,” said Jake in a way that made Amy wonder if he didn’t really buy her attempt to cover. Like he’d known what she really wanted to say. But the moment had turned into yet another opportunity wasted. “Anyway,” he continued. “It’s late. I should, uh…” He glanced down at the pull-out couch that would be his bed for the next few days.

“Oh yeah!” Amy bolted from the couch when she realized that Jake would likely be sleeping exactly where she’d been sitting all night. “Of course, sorry.”

She did a sweep of the room, checking all the windows and scoping the street outside. It was all clear. She was halfway to the bedroom when Jake spoke again. “Hey, Amy?”

“Yeah?” She stood on the threshold of the bedroom and leaned again the door.

“You know… I mean, if you want, you know that you can always talk to me. If you want, I mean.”

She smiled, his words sending a warmth through her that defied explanation. “I know,” she said, and the truth was she did. “I’ll see you in the morning.”


	3. How do you like your eggs in the  morning?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy learns that Jake doesn't really wear paisley PJs and Jakes learns why you should always lock your cell phone screen.

Jake was still asleep when she stumbled from the bedroom at six am the next morning. Though she didn’t have to check in with the precinct for another two hours, her internal clock had roused her at five forty-five sharp; she’d never needed an alarm to wake.

She walked over to the couch, tiptoeing so as not to wake him, but she needn’t have worried. He was dead to the world, sleeping on his front like a toddler with one arm crooked up his back and his face smooshed into the pillow. He’d kicked his comforter off and it was bunched up at his feet.

Feeling only slightly guilty, she took advantage of the moment to study him. His T-shirt had ridden up, revealing six inches of skin, and Amy’s eye followed the indentation of his spine to where it disappeared into the waistband of his sweats. The sight was not sexual in the slightest, and yet Amy found it unnervingly attractive.

Jake grunted and rolled over and she darted back on silent feet towards the kitchen. She was by the stove spooning coffee quite convincingly into the filter by the time he sat up. He picked up his phone and squinted at it. “You know, I heard a rumor once that six am was a time that actually existed. I didn’t believe it until now.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I can never sleep late. Go back to sleep. There’ s no need to get up right now.”

He scrubbed a hand through his mess of hair and rubbed his eye with the ball of his hand. “No it’s fine. I think this pull-out might have given me severe lumbar damage.”

She winced. “Oh, sorry. We could take turns sleeping in the bed if you want?”

Jake’s gaze went to the open bedroom door and then back to her. “Uh, no… no it’s fine. Thank you. Hey, are you wearing Terry’s shirt again?”

Amy looked down at the huge cotton T that swamped her frame and gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I mentioned it was super comfortable when I wore it at the station that time, so he let me keep it. It’s roomy.”

Jake laughed. “It sure is.”

“Not the most attractive of sleepwear though, huh?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she cursed herself. Why the hell would she mention whether what she wore to bed was attractive or not? 

But all Jake said was, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Her head shot round to face him, but he was looking at his phone again, and she wondered if he even knew he’d spoken. “Who are you texting?”

He looked up with a bright smile and tossed the phone onto the rumpled comforter. “Just Boyle.” He stood and rounded the couch to join her in the little kitchen. She’d taken the eggs and bacon from the refrigerator, and a bowl from the cabinet. “Uh, you’re not cooking breakfast are you?”

Ignoring the note of fear in his voice, she handed him a spatula. “No,” she said, “you are. I’m going to take a shower. FYI, I like mine crispy.”

She left him standing there as she strode off for the bathroom. And she was 99% certain he didn’t spot her swipe his phone from the couch.

***

Jake was setting out the coffee cups when Amy emerged from the bathroom. She was wrapped in a toweling robe, her hair was damp and her face make up free, and for a moment he just stood looking at her, one hand poised over the table, cup still in hand. The moment had gone on just a fraction too long for him to explain why he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and so it was with some relief that he realized she was mad.

“What?” he asked with some trepidation; there was always any number of reasons, at any given time, why Santiago could be mad at him.

“Boyle, was it?” She reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew his phone.

Jake sighed and closed his eyes. “Amy–”

“No,” she said, “don’t say Amy like that.”

He frowned, puzzled. “Like what?”

“Like that! _Amy_.”

He looked to the side, unsure how to counter without making her really mad. He’d more or less guessed why she was pissed. “It’s just your name, Amy.”

“Well… whatever! Point is, I know who it was you were texting.” She brandished the phone. “Your informant in Fort Greene, asking if he had intel on Maliardi. What the hell, Jake?”

Jake sat the coffee cup down on the table and held up his hands. “Okay, look, I just wanted info. I wasn’t going to do anything about it.”

Amy folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t buying it. He hadn’t expected her to. “What do you want me to say, Aiiii… uh, you?”

“Gimme a break, Peralta. You’re not even trying to take this threat seriously. Maliardi is a dangerous man.”

“Are you kidding me? Amy, I know exactly how dangerous he is. I spent six months working for him, shitting my pants in case he found out who I was. I just…” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I just need to know. If he’s out there, I need to know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

Amy’s shoulder’s dropped and her expression softened. “You don’t have to apologize, Jake. Just loop me in on what you’re thinking. You know that all I want to do is help. We’re not doing this to piss you off, just to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Well, okay.” 

There was a beat of silence as they looked at one another. A bead of water fell from her hair and dropped onto her clavicle, before trickling down into the neckline of her robe.

“Breakfast,” said Jake, a little too loudly.

“Huh?”

He gestured dumbly at the table, and Amy looked round at the plates, flatware and napkins he’d laid out, with the tray of bacon and eggs in the center. A small smile appeared on her face. “Wow, you did a lot in twenty minutes.”

“I work fast, Santiago. A skill women seldom appreciate.” He was conscious that he’d pulled the dish towel from his shoulder and was nervously twisting it in his hands. It felt silly now, all of this. In truth, even while he was doing it, he’d questioned the effort he was making, knowing it could turn out looking lame rather than thoughtful. But normally for him, breakfast was a bowl of Lucky Charms eaten standing up, with milk that was probably about a day past good. Most of the time, he was still chewing as he ran out the door.  
He didn’t know why he’d done all of this; all he knew was that he’d been looking forward to eating breakfast with Amy, and now he felt like a kid at prom, caught out with a five dollar corsage.

But Amy was already seated and pouring coffee into both mugs. “This is nice, Jake. I can’t remember the last time I had breakfast somewhere that wasn’t my desk or a coffee shop counter.” She turned to face him and he saw that she was genuinely pleased. He still felt a little lame. “Aren’t you sitting down?” she asked

“Oh, yeah… sure.” He sat across from her, spooning eggs onto his plate. Amy proffered her own plate and he scooped some on there. It was strange, this domestic little scene. In that moment, Jake didn’t entirely mind being stuck where he was.

“So,” said Amy, “what were you planning on doing if Raoul text you back with something concrete?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m not used to having my wings clipped like this.”

“Admit it, Jake. If he’d given you a lead, you were going to try and give me the slip and follow it up. You can tell me. I won’t be mad.”

Jake frowned. She could get it so wrong sometimes. “I wasn’t going to try and give you the slip.”

“Oh that is such bull. You’re telling me you’d have been happy to sit tight?”

“No, of course not. But I wouldn’t have gone without you. I’d want you with me on this.”

Amy straightened. “Oh.” She looked down at her eggs, thinking, and shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter, because I wouldn’t have gone with you.”

Jake quirked a smile. “Yeah, ya would.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, but didn’t argue. He knew she couldn’t deny it, because this was the Amy he’d seen countless times before, the secret Amy, the one who threw herself with gusto into the Jimmy Jab games, the one who helped him try and get one over on the Vulture, the Amy who thrilled at defying the rules. These small rebellions were as much a part of her as her love of order and control, and her intractable need to follow rules. It was the Amy she didn’t let people see too often, but Jake saw her.  
She set down her fork and leaned back in her chair. 

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you…” He gave a little whoop of triumph, but she held up her hand to quiet him. “I’ll help you look at the evidence and see if we can pin down where Maliardi might be. But only on the condition that we pass anything we find over to Agent Marx. No legwork, the only trail we follow is the one on paper.”

“C’mon, Amy–”

“I mean it, Peralta. You don’t agree to this, you get no help from me.”

Jake considered it. Amy was a valuable asset to have on your side and he couldn’t think of a detective he respected more. Her analytical skills were unmatched and she could sift out clues from the barest of facts. The flipside of that coin was that she made a formidable obstacle when pitted against you; if he hadn’t gotten lucky with that vice sting, he’d most certainly have lost their bet. Jake definitely wanted her on his side.

“Is it a deal?” she prompted.

“It’s a deal,” he said with a nod, and extended his hand.

She shook it with a satisfied smile on her face.

Jack grimaced. “I swear, Santiago, your grip is firmer than Terry’s!”

Her smile only broadened. She was so consistent.


	4. Dead Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustrations leave Jake needing to let off steam. Circumstances lead to embarrassing confessions.

It was on the third day that the lid blew off.

The day of their agreement, Amy had gone to the precinct at a time when she knew Holt would be out and brought another box of case files back to the apartment. The files weren’t just on Maliardi, but on the other members of the crime syndicate, even the ones Jake had already put away. She’d grumbled about the risk she was taking, but didn’t elaborate on the buzz she’d felt. 

They’d then spent forty-eight hours scrutinizing each document and jotting down possible leads. True to her word, she’d passed them on to Special Agent Marx through Captain Holt, but the feds had come up blank; Freddy Maliardi was off the grid.

“Where the hell is he?” yelled Jake, scattering a sheaf of notes across the kitchen table. “We’ve been staring at these files forever and we haven’t found a single decent thread to follow.”

He pushed his chair back so hard, it hit a cabinet and cracked the handle. “I did not mean to do that and I will pay for the damage!” he yelled, with a glance back at the broken handle and a slight look of chagrin. He scrubbed his hands over his face and walked to the window, bracing his arms on either side and staring morosely out through the blinds. Amy contemplated telling him to come back from the window in case he was seen, but decided it might push him over the edge.

There was a thought she’d been having for a while, but she wasn’t sure how to voice it. She took a breath. “Jake, have you considered that maybe Freddy isn’t back after all?”

He turned to face her, but she couldn’t read his expression. “He’s back,” he said. “There’s no doubt in my mind. Every since he got away, I’ve known he’d come back for me.”

The certainty in his voice was enough. “Alright, then I guess we look again and see what we might have missed.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna go crazy if I spend another minute looking at those files right now. Amy, I have got to get out of here.”

“Jake, we agreed...”

“I don’t mean I want to get out and work on the case. I just mean I need to get out, even if it’s only for a walk round the block. I’m breathing in the same air I breathed out three days ago.”

“Well, actually you breathed out carbon dioxide, so technically –”

“Amy!”

She jumped. “What?”

“Get changed. We’re going out.”

***

They wound up two blocks away, at a Chinese restaurant Charles had gone on and on about a few weeks back. The night was clear, still holding the warmth of the day, and Jake was glad to clear out the cobwebs that had gathered over the past few days. He didn’t remember talking Amy into more than a walk round the block, but suddenly they were standing outside the restaurant reading the window menu. She kept glancing over her shoulder and he could tell she was uneasy about him being out in the open.

“Santiago, relax. We haven’t found a trace of Maliardi so far. He’s not going to suddenly show up here with a craving for kung pao chicken.”

“I’m just doing my job, Jake.”

He inclined his head, resisting the urge to point out that her job included not letting him out of the safehouse in the first place. If he goaded her on her rule breaking, he might just find himself back staring at those walls. So instead, he held open the door and followed Amy through – and stopped dead alongside her on the threshold.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

The atmosphere of the place was only what he could only describe as intimate: low lighting, candles, flowers, and almost every table occupied by some couple staring into each others’ eyes.

“Didn’t Charles tell you it was so…?” She flapped her hand towards the cozy setting.

“No,” said Jake, “he told me he brought his mom here for her birthday.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

“We should go.” He turned to walk back out the door, but Amy stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Come on, Jake. We’re both hungry and we’re here now. It’s stupid to feel weird about this. I mean, it’s funny really. Isn’t it? It’s not as if we should have anything to feel weird about. Should we?” She cleared her throat. 

He cast a glance at the warmly lit interior. _Yes, Amy,_ he wanted to say. _Yes, this makes me feel weird. And all kinds of other things._ But he didn’t say any of that. What he did do was force a bright grin and say, “Sure!”

The maître d’ seated them officiously in a little nook near the back of the restaurant, and ignored Jake’s attempts to stop him lighting a candle on their table. The glow it cast on Amy’s face was not at all what he wanted to look at right then. 

Somewhere in the background, Percy Sledge was singing ‘Dark End of the Street’. His eyes caught hers and locked, and in that instant something huge and overwhelming grew in his chest until he thought he might stop breathing. It wasn’t a new feeling, this; he’d experienced it many times before and knew how to swallow it down. But here, now, the way she was looking at him? For one terrifying instant, he thought he might not be able to control it and would say or do something that could never be undone. 

“Wine?” said a voice. 

Jake started, and then breathed a sigh of relief that the waiter had arrived with the wine list.

“No, thank you,” said Amy.

“You don’t want some wine with dinner?” he asked.

“Um, I don’t think spacey Amy would be much good at protecting you from a crime boss intent on killing you, and this place is a little too low-key for loud Amy.” She looked down at the table and murmured, “And I definitely don’t think four drink Amy would be appropriate tonight. I’ll have a water thank you,” she said to the waiter.

Jake ordered a beer and then cracked open one of the fortune cookies that the waiter had left on the table. “You will have dinner with a dark-eyed woman who enjoys alphabetizing her kitchen utensils.”

“Hey!” laughed Amy. “I do not alphabetize my kitchen utensils! That would be ridiculous. I categorize them by size and function.”

“Of course you do,” said Jake, suppressing a grin.

The waiter arrived with their drinks and she took a sip and looked around the restaurant. “You know, some people would consider this our second date.”

Jake paused with his beer halfway to his lips. “Would they?”

“Well, yeah. I mean I’m a little bit more comfortably dressed than our first one, and you’re a little bit less douchey, but I think a lot of people would say it’s got a datey type feel to it.”

 _And what would you say, Amy?_ was the question he wanted to ask, but he knew this was just banter from her, so he kept his reply light. “If I’d known it was going to have a datey type feel, I’d have gone all out and taken you dancing.” He leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Santiago, but I’m quite the Swayze.”

Her expression was faux-serious. “I had noticed, Detective Peralta. But what I’ve always been curious about is where you learned those moves.”

He cleared his throat and looked away. “That is a secret I shall never tell.”

“Oh come on, Peralta!” She threw a fortune cookie at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Well alright, but you are one of two people besides me in the precinct who know about this, and the other person has maintained their silence thus far. So if this gets out…”

“I swear my lips are sealed,” she said, holding up her hands.

“Okay, well, my mom and Gina’s mom were friends back in the day, and when Gina started dance lessons, Mrs Linetti told my mom that she needed a partner for her classes…”

A slow grin spread itself across Amy’s face. “Nooooo…”

“Oh yes. Little Jakey got volunteered. From age eleven to age thirteen, I spent every Tuesday after school in that community hall with Gina. And let me tell you she was not a pleasant partner. You think she’s crazy now? You shoulda seen the adolescent version of her.”

“I can imagine. So what happened? Why’d you stop?”

He shifted in his chair, the memory bringing fresh embarrassment. “Well, there was a tournament, and as part of her Flashdance homage, Antonia Lombardi had to do a few backflips. It was all great until the strap on her leotard snapped and sort of… stopped doing its job of holding all of her inside her costume.” He gestured to his chest.

“Oh no.” Amy cringed, perhaps sympathetic to the mortification of that fourteen year old girl.

“Oh yes,” said Jake. “So I reacted the way any thirteen year old boy would when faced with a boob popping out of a girl’s top. And when I say I reacted, I mean I _reacted_. Involuntarily.”

“Oh no!” She stifled a giggle and clasped her hand to her mouth.

“Yeah,” he said, “and those pants were really tight.”

“And so ended your dancing career.”

“That is correct. I could’ve been one of the greats, y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She smiled again, but this time it was softer, and the feeling in his chest came back. Only this time, he took a breath so it wouldn’t consume him. He could control this, and maybe if he could control it, he could use it. It wasn’t so scary just to tell a girl the truth.

He leaned his elbows on the table. “Listen, Amy, there’s something I should –”

“Oh crap,” she muttered.

Jake sat back abruptly, hitting his knee on the table and dislodging the neatly laid out silverware. “You’re right, sorry, I didn’t mean –” 

“What the hell are they doing here?” She hunkered down as if she was trying to hide behind the small vase of flowers in the center of the table.

“Who?” Jake looked over his shoulder. “Oh crap.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said already. We’ve got to get out of here.”

She wasn’t wrong. Because at the front of the restaurant, standing at the takeout counter, was Charles, Gina and Sergeant Terry Jeffords.


	5. It's not what it looks like, except when it is.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy find that making their escape isn't as easy as they'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time, but more to come soon.

From their cramped position underneath the table, Jake slid a hand outside the tablecloth and dropped a ten on the table. It would cover the cost of his beer and hopefully leave a big enough tip that the waiter wouldn’t start mouthing off about the weirdos at table twelve.

“What now?” whispered Amy.

“We sneak out. I saw a fire exit near the kitchen. Keep low and follow me.” He lifted the white cloth and slunk out between the tables. He made his way in a crouch, winding his way through the canyon of linen and feet, ignoring the curious looks of the other diners. He felt Amy grab a fistful of his shirt and he slowed down so as not leave her behind.  
Eventually, they reached the heavy metal door that he assumed led to the back alley, and popped his head up to push against the heavy bar across the door. Risking a glance towards the front of the restaurant, he saw that the Sarge was still standing by the counter, though he didn’t look particularly perturbed. Gina and Charles were nowhere to be seen.

He and Amy darted through the door and out into the alley. As soon as the door swung closed behind them, they caught each other’s gaze and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” said Amy, her voice still hushed, “I thought for sure they would see us.”

“Did you see that guy’s face sitting across from us? I think he thought we were trying to ditch the tab or something.”

“We cannot ever go back to that restaurant.”

Jake got his laughter under control. “Come on, we better get out of here before they come out. Terry won’t be happy if he sees us out of the safe house.” He led the way to the end of the alley, but just as they were about to step out onto the street, he looked to his left – then grabbed Amy’s arm and hauled her back against the wall, pressing himself close.

“Jake, what are you doing?” Her voice was still a whisper, but all levity had gone.

Ignoring her question, Jake peered round the corner, careful not to make himself too visible. Boyle stood on the street, looking up and down as if searching for something. "Charles is right there."

“Maybe he’s looking for a cab?” said Amy.

He half turned to face her and only then did he realize how close they were pressed against the wall. His lips were barely an inch from her cheek, his thumb resting on the bare skin just above her shirt. She wasn’t looking at him, instead facing ahead, though her eyes were downcast, almost as if she was staring at his neck.

He drew back, until they were facing each other, and her eyes flicked up to meet his. All it would take would be the smallest dip of his head –

“I thought that was you guys!”

Jake jumped back and spun to face Boyle, who was standing at the entrance of the alley staring at them with a huge grin on his face. “So…” he said, looking between Jake and Amy. “What’s going on here?”

“Not a thing,” said Jake, at the same time as Amy made some sort of garbled statement. “Nothing at all. Uh…Why…why… why are you even here Boyle?”

“I’m here getting some take out with Terry and Gina, but I’m not the one who’s supposed to be laying low in the safehouse. Gina’s doing her best to keep the sarge occupied, because if he sees you guys here –”

“And what manner of tryst have we stumbled upon here?” The familiar drawl made Jake roll his eyes and he heard Amy mutter a curse by his side.

“Hey, Gina!” he said, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. “So nice that you could join us in the alley.”

She narrowed her eyes and pointed at him and Amy. “Were you guys making out back here?”

“What? No!” 

“Oh my god,” groaned Amy.

“I think I interrupted them,” said Boyle, with a sly little wink at Gina.

“Charles,” she chided, “that is just downright rude. You should never interrupt people when they’re about to make out, especially when it’s taken them so damn long to get round to it.”

“Okay, look,” hissed Amy, stepping between Jake and the others, “we were _not_ making out, but we should not be here. So if you guys don’t mind, I’m going to take Jake back to the safe house and we’ll pretend like none of this happened.”

“Yeah, it’s probably a real good idea you get back to the safehouse pretty quick.”

The way Charles said it sparked a flicker of dread in Jake’s gut. 

“Why?” asked Amy, hesitantly.

“Because that’s why we’re in this neighborhood. The sarge wanted to drop by and make sure you two are alright. Though, from the looks of it, you definitely are.” Charles gave them a mischievous grin.

“Oh no! Guys, you have to stall him,” said Amy.

“Don’t worry, li'l Jakey,” said Gina, pressing her finger to the tip of Jake’s nose, smooshing it into his face. “Gina Linetti is an advocate for lovers.”

“Gina, we’re not – ”

“Hushhhh!” Her finger slid down to mash his lips against his teeth. “I’ll protect your secret. And Santiago, might I say good work, my friend?”

“But we –”

“Boyle! Gina! Where the hell are you guys?” The yell came from further down the street. Jake made a shooing motion to get rid of them from the alley, mouthing ‘Go!’ Boyle put a finger to his lips and nodded solemnly, as if engaged in some intricate conspiracy. Gina simply cast them lecher’s grin as they both left the alley. A few moments later, he heard Terry’s voice again. “Where’d you go? You owe me twenty dollars each.”

Peeking round the corner again, he watched Gina and Charles walk Terry down the street in the opposite direction.

“Okay, we gotta move now,” he said to Amy. She nodded, but avoided his eye. He wasn’t sure if Gina and Charles’ interruption had been a good thing or a bad thing, given the circumstances, but one thing was for sure: they wouldn’t be talking about it any time soon. Jeffords was on his way to the safehouse, and if they weren’t there when he arrived, there would be hell to pay.


	6. Denials and Breakthroughs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy try to beat Jeffords back to the safehouse. The sarge makes his suspicions known, while Jake makes progress on the Maliardi case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a delay on this one, but I've finally got round to getting it beta'd (and it needed it!) Thanks to SalR323 for beta duties.

By the time they reached the apartment block, they could hardly breathe never mind speak, and Amy’s hair was looking a little bedraggled. They’d run the entire way, and Jake was chagrined to admit that Amy had outpaced him more than once. The girl had speed.

They headed round the back of the building and he jumped up to pull down the fire escape ladder. The safehouse was on the fourth floor and by the time they’d made it up there, his thighs were burning from the exertion. The only problem they were left with was how to get through the window.

“Damnit!” he panted. “Why didn’t we leave it open?”

“Because we expected to be coming back in through the door,” pointed out Amy.

“Well that showed a horrifying lack of foresight. How are we going to get in?”

Amy reached into her purse and said, “Here, try this.”

“You got a nail file?”

“No,” she said, and withdrew a small claw hammer.

He shook his head in wonder. “Yet still no hairdryer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Would a hairdryer help us now?”

“I guess not.”

He’d only just slid the claw end of the hammer under the wooden frame, when he heard the loud knocking at the apartment door; Terry was already there. Jake shared a quick, panicked look with Amy, before giving the hammer a sharp tug. The window opened in a shower of splinters and he slid it open, pulling back the blind so that Amy could climb in first. 

She landed on her knees and gestured frantically for him to follow. The knocking sounded again, louder this time, and was accompanied by a call from Terry to let him in. He didn’t know where Charles and Gina had gone, but they obviously weren’t there to run interference. In a panic, Jake threw himself through the window, landing awkwardly and crashing into the coffee table.

“Jake! Amy! What the hell’s going on in there? Let me in!”

Clutching his leg, Jake motioned for Amy to answer the door, and pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the throbbing in his knee.

He was standing with his hands on his hips, trying desperately to look nonchalant, by the time Amy opened the door to reveal the sarge on the other side with his weapon drawn.

“Hey, Sarge!” exclaimed Amy with a smile that looked frozen in place. “So nice to see you! What brings you round these parts?” Her accent had gone Southern somehow and Jake slid her a look; her smile had become more of a grimace.

Terry stared at her, bewildered, and looked past her into the apartment, as if trying to determine what intruder had been trying to kill them a moment ago. “What brings –? What the hell, Santiago? What was that noise?”

“Oh, that!” said Jake, “That was just me crashing into the coffee table.”

Terry looked at the table which sat askew in the center of the room and then at both Jake and Amy in turn. “You crashed… Why are you both out of breath? And why is your hair all mussed…?” He tailed off and raised his eyebrows. “Oooh!”

“Ooooh, what?” said Jake, unsure what realization the sarge had been struck with. Whatever he thought had happened, it was clearly far from the truth. Understanding dawned on him and Amy at the same time.

“Ohnonono! Sarge, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“No! We weren’t –”

But Terry wasn’t listening. “Hey, kids, it’s none of my business. I get it. It’s close quarters here. And Jake, those things you were talking about last year, they were bound to come out sooner or later. What happens in the safehouse stays in the safehouse… or maybe not. Maybe you two –”

“Sarge! Please!” If ever there was a time for an East Coast earthquake, thought Jake, this was it - he couldn’t think of how else the ground might open up and swallow him. Amy was staring at Terry, her mouth a little ‘O’, her olive skin more pink now.

“Okay, okay.” Terry held his hands up in a placating gesture, but he still had that sly grin on his face. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Genuinely curious, Jake said, “Was there any particular reason you stopped by?” He realized that at this stage, the sarge was one of the few people who might have his ear to the ground regarding the Maliardi case.

“Well, first of all, I thought you guys might be hungry.” He turned back to the hallway and lifted a bag from the floor. From it came the enticing smell of Chinese food, and in that moment Jake wondered if it was an aroma that would always remind him of the light on Amy’s face. He gave his head a quick shake to dispel the image.

“That was very thoughtful of you, Sergeant Jeffords, sir,” said Amy. “As you know, it is impossible for Jake to even leave this apartment, never mind visit a restaurant to enjoy such food.”

Terry squinted at her weird stilted tone and Jake fought not to roll his eyes; she was always so bad at covering.

“I also came by to tell you that Captain Holt thinks the feds might be winding down the case.”

“What?” The news left Jake reeling.

“But how can they even think about winding down when he’s still out there?” Amy said. “Jake’s life could still be in danger.”

Terry looked just as dismayed by the news. “I don’t know what to tell you, Detective. Marx has been grumbling that there isn’t any direct evidence. They think he might have gone elsewhere. Apparently he has contacts in Sacramento and they’re thinking of shifting the search there.”

While Jake thought Marx’s theory was BS, he could see how this situation might work to his advantage. “So that means I can get out of here, right?”

“Now hold on a minute,” said Terry. “I didn’t say that. Holt’s got Diaz and me looking into those leads you passed over. Orders are for you to stay put until all avenues have been exhausted.”

“Gah! Sarge, c’mon! All avenues have already been exhausted. I could be out there looking for fresh avenues.” For a second, Jake thought about kicking the coffee table in frustration, but then remembered how painful it had been when he’d whacked his knee and decided against it. “I’m like Maverick, without his plane.”

“First of all, you are nothing like Maverick, son,” said Terry. “You’d be lucky to rock a pair of aviators the way that boy could. And second of all, I’m only the messenger, not the big boss.”

Jake was about to argue back, but stopped mid-flow. The realization he’d just had at Terry’s words was so damn obvious that he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Sarge, thank you for the Chinese food and the uncomfortable innuendo, but I think you should get back to the precinct and get a judge on the phone as soon as you can. We’re gonna need a warrant.”

***

“I don’t get it. Who is this guy and why is he important?” Sergeant Jeffords was staring down at the files and photographs scattered across the kitchen table of the safehouse. Amy had winced under the weight of his accusatory gaze when he’d seen how many files she’d snagged from the precinct, but was relieved that it had distracted him from the horrendously embarrassing conversation they'd been having just prior to Jake's breakthrough. To his credit, the sarge hadn’t challenged her on the files further; he was a good enough cop that he’d overlook procedure when there was a job to be done. Amy just hoped that Jake had something concrete, because right now she wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“His name is Levi Kauffman,” said Jake. “He’s been Freddy’s driver for twenty years. The guy’s more or less clean. I’m not saying he didn’t know what was going on, but as far as I saw he was never directly involved. He used to show me photos of his grandkids.”

Terry shrugged. “So?” 

“So,” continued Jake, “Levi was loyal. Freddy relied on him for everything, because he was dependable and a stickler for punctuality.”

“Peralta, are you giving me a lead here or trying to get the guy a job? I do not need the highlights of his resume.”

But Amy suddenly understood where Jake was going with this. “The school run.”

Jake grinned and nodded. “The school run.”

She returned his look, feeling that familiar rush of a case cracking open before them. “Why didn’t we see it before?”

“We were looking too closely at the big players. We didn’t think to widen the circle.”

“It’s always the little guys.”

“Apparently so.”

“Would you both stop with the Jake and Amy secret code already?” cried Terry. “What the hell is it you’re telling me?”

Jake gestured for Amy to do the honors, even though the breakthrough had been his. She shook her head; it was too good a moment to steal from him. Besides, though she’d never admit it to his face, there was something thrilling about watching him when he was in the zone. During the bet, despite all that was at stake, despite how much he loved to crow about it, she’d secretly shared the rush of each of his collars. She was a cop who, more than anything, enjoyed seeing the job done well – and no one was better at it than Jake Peralta. Though she’d rather swallow her own tongue than say it out loud, she loved to watch him work.

“Kauffman has been under surveillance ever since Freddy escaped,” Jake explained to Terry. “The Feds figured he was so close to the family, he was bound to make contact with them at some point. But the man’s kept his nose clean and the most they got on him were his daily trips to pick up his granddaughter from elementary school.”

“Every day, like clockwork, he’d be at the gates,” picked up Amy.

“A man of routine,” said Jake. “But then, three weeks ago, the school runs stop and the granddaughter starts getting the bus home. We wrote him off, just like the feds, thinking it was a dead end. But now…”

Terry nodded, considering the surveillance photos laid out on the table. “Maybe he’s sick.”

“Maybe,” said Amy, “but they had tabs on his house. There was no sign of him coming in or going out for a week. Nothing to say he was even inside.”

“So where’d he go?” said Terry.

“Exactly,” said Jake. “Where would a 65-year-old man disappear to without warning and why didn’t anyone notice? It’s almost like he knew he was being watched and deliberately threw off his tail.” He looked to Amy, inviting her to jump in. “And why would a man with nothing to hide want to put the Feds off of his scent?”

“Because he’s in contact with Maliardi,” she said.

“Excellent detecting, Detective! You get a gold Peralta star.” He turned back to Jeffords. “Sarge, Kauffman was Freddy’s go-to-guy. It makes sense that he’d contact him if he was coming back into town and needed some cover.”

“This is tenuous, Peralta,” said Terry, but Amy could see he was considering the merit of the theory.

“Why, thank you, Sarge! It’s a gift.”

With a smile at Jake that she tried to disguise as a withering look, Amy said, “Maybe it is, Sergeant, but surely it’s worth the precinct looking into it, even if the Bureau doesn’t want to?” 

“Alright,” said the sarge, with a deciding nod. “I’ll try and get the warrant. But while we’re chasing this lead up, I don’t need to tell you to –”

“Sit tight,” said Jake, sighing. “Yeah, I’ve read this script before.”

“Ok,” said Terry, gathering up the files he’d need to make his case for a warrant. “Oh and maybe just for now you two should keep your heads in the game. A little bit less of….whatever was going on when I got here.”

Amy cringed. Maybe this evening wasn’t done with embarrassing them both after all.


	7. Confession is good for the soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Terry is getting the warrant, Jake and Amy have nothing to do but wait. And talk.

After Terry left, Jake seemed to settle down, as if just the knowledge that something was at last moving forward was enough to satisfy him for now. They dished out the shrimp dumplings and chow mein that Terry had brought and sat on the couch to eat in front of Jeopardy. The food and the inane chatter from the TV distracted them momentarily from the conversation that they were decidedly not having. 

“So,” said Amy, “you think the Kauffman lead’s good?”

“It could be nothing,” said Jake around a mouthful of noodles. “But my gut tells me there’s something there. Doesn’t yours?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m too far removed from the case to tell? You’re the one who was there. And I trust your gut.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she could tell he meant it. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure I’m right. I know Freddy. This is his style. He was always in a pissing contest with the Ianuccis. He’d lay low until he decided it was time to make his move. And then…” He blew out his cheeks and rubbed his thumb across his palm. “He could be a mean bastard, Amy. We have to put him away.”

“We will,” said Amy, though her concern was more for Jake and the way he’d turned into himself. He’d never spoken about his experience undercover, treating it instead with his usual Peralta glibness, but for the first time she saw in his face how deeply it had affected him. “We’ll catch him Jake.”

He tilted his head to look at her. “I know we will.”

It was one of those rare moments when Jake let his serious nature show through. When it happened, it was normally about the job. Jake thought he could hide behind those fake personas he created, but Amy knew it was all him; a single-minded focus that got things done.

But sometimes she thought she could see the same focus when he was talking to her, when the teasing slid away and something more intense revealed itself. Her thoughts returned to that moment in the alley, his breath on her cheek and the smell of his cologne. 

Pressed against that wall, hiding from Charles, she’d become transfixed by the gap between the collar of Jake’s shirt and the skin of his neck, and had been struck by the piercing urge to press her lips right to that spot. If he hadn’t turned towards her at that moment, she might have been unable to stop herself. But he had turned around. And that look he’d had when his eyes had dropped to her lips…

“Are you cold?” Jake asked.

Amy started. “What? No. Why’d you ask?”

“You shivered.”

“Oh?” _Oh._ “No, I’m ok.”

He looked at her strangely, but she couldn’t quite make out what he might be thinking. Setting his plate on the coffee table, he said, “You know, Amy, I’m not stupid. I know what’s wrong.”

She put on her best guileless expression, one she hoped would hide the way her heart beat that little bit faster at his words. Perhaps they were going to have that conversation after all. “You do? I mean, there’s nothing wrong.”

“That stuff the sarge was saying. It was kinda embarrassing.”

Amy swallowed. Embarrassing didn’t even cover it; it had been even worse than that awful confrontation over dinner at The Maple Drip Inn, simply because of what had almost happened in the alley just minutes before.

It had reminded her of seventh grade and the sleepover she’d had at Penny Gorski’s house. Penny had locked Amy in her parents’ bathroom with her cousin Luke and wouldn’t open the door until they’d made out. It had been one of the most excruciating experiences of her adolescence, made all the worse because she’d genuinely had a crush on Luke for most of that year. The only difference now was that she and Jake had an entire apartment to be locked up in, instead of Mr. and Mrs. Gorski’s en suite. 

All she could do was shrug it off. “It’s fine, Jake. Cops like to gossip and most of the stuff they gossip about is all nonsense. Terry’s just as bad as the rest. We all are. He was just trying to get a rise out of us.”

He nodded after a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. Nonsense.”

There was a question, though, that had played on her mind. Something Terry had said. But it’d be dumb to ask; better just to put the entire humiliation to bed and move on. Then again… “What did he mean when he mentioned the things you’d talked about last year and how they were bound to come out?” _Damnit, Amy!_

Jake opened his mouth as if to speak, but took a breath instead. Part of her wanted him to obfuscate and avoid the issue. The rest of her knew that he wouldn’t; Jake Peralta was nothing if not open and he’d never lie to her. “Uh…that was nothing. Well, I guess it was something.” He shook his head. “I mean it’s not as if it’s news or anything, ‘cause you already know, so… I guess I might’ve told the sarge that I liked you.”

She was taken aback, but unsure what to make of the information. “Oh.”

“I mean it’s no big deal. He just caught me at a bad time. I was feeling kinda low after the Nate Dexter case and I said more than I should have.”

“The Dexter case? But you solved that case. In fact, if I remember things correctly –

“You always remember things correctly.”

“– you were just off a hot streak. That was some impressive work, Peralta. Why were you feeling low?”

He picked up his orange soda and took a drink, staring at the TV for a moment. “There was other stuff going on,” was all he said.

He looked sad suddenly, as if he was thinking back on whatever it was that had him feeling low back then, and Amy was glad that whatever it was hadn’t lingered. “Wow, Jake, I feel really bad. I’m your partner. I should’ve realized that there was something wrong. I thought you were happy about solving the case, but I guess I got too caught up in my own stuff to notice. All I remember about that weekend was the ridiculous lie I told Holt, and the plans for the Berkshires that Teddy and I…” She trailed off.

Jake was still staring at the TV. He quirked his lips and closed his eyes.

“Jake…”

“Don’t, Amy.” He smiled, and that small, gentle expression almost broke her heart.

“All that time?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

 _All that time._ All that time she’d invested in Teddy, who was so good for her on paper but who’d never once said or done anything that could elicit an involuntary laugh long after the joke was over and she was on the subway home. Teddy, who had a meticulously balanced checking account and who would never spend $400 on a tiger cub, just to make a bad date hilariously awful. 

It was a comparison she didn’t even want to start thinking about. “Just as well Sophia came along, huh?” she said, though her voice rang false to her own ears. “I hear a gorgeous, smart lawyer is a splendid cure for all woes.”

He slid her a sideways glance, a smirk twitching on his lips. “A splendid cure for all woes?”

She grimaced. “I know, I don’t know what –”

“What, are you from _Hamlet_?”

Amy put her hand across her eyes and shook her head. “Not sure where that came from.”

“Yon feisty lawyer woman doth cure all woes, good sir.”

“You’re British now?”

“It seemed the right choice for the moment.”

“It totally works.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Their laughter faded, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. She was glad the awkwardness between them had gone; she couldn’t bear feeling weird about talking to him. “We might have a big day tomorrow,” she said. “I should get to bed.”

“Yeah,” said Jake.

She stood and stretched, cracking her shoulders to ease the knots there. As she reached the bedroom door, Jake called after her, and it reminded her of the first night they’d spent there. “Amy?”

“Yeah?”

He held her gaze, no artifice or guile. “I’m glad I’m not with Sophia now.”

Later, she would never be able to pinpoint what prompted her reply, but she smiled and said, “I’m glad too.”


	8. The camera never lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake discovers the true extent of Freddy's plans... while Amy discovers something even more difficult to deal with.

Jake woke in a tangle of arms, legs and comforter, to a hammering sound that he soon established was coming from the door rather than inside his head. His heart pounded with the panicked beat of a person who’d been roused suddenly from sleep – and was also hiding out from a crazed mob boss intent on revenge. It did not make for a pleasant start to the morning. 

He squinted against the weak daylight filtering in through the blinds as the bedroom door opened to reveal Amy with a pair of jeans pulled on beneath Terry’s voluminous shirt. She glanced from the front door to Jake and pressed her finger to her lips. It was then that Jake saw she was already holding her firearm. His own weapon lay on the floor by the couch and he unholstered it as quietly as he could.

In truth, he doubted whoever was at the door was a threat; if Maliardi had a hit out on him, he doubted it would come knocking. But it would be stupid not to exercise caution.  
With great care, Amy unlatched the front door, turned the key and jerked it open while bringing her weapon up in one fluid motion. She let it fall when she saw who was standing on the other side. “Captain! Sir! I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, detective. My visit was unexpected and there was a door in the way. Hello, Peralta.” Captain Holt walked into the apartment, tucking his hat under his arm. For a second, he paused, looking between the open bedroom door and Jake who still had one knee amid the crumpled blankets on the couch. Holt’s expression remained entirely immobile.

“Captain!” said Jake with a broad smile. “Welcome back to the safehouse! Were you feeling nostalgic?”

“No. The time I spent here with you was unbearable.”

Jake’s smile froze in place. “Well, alright.”

Amy tucked her sidearm into the waistband of her jeans and followed Holt to the kitchen table. “So, sir, this is great. Lovely to have you here at…” She sneaked an obvious glance at the clock. “…five-thirty a.m.! Can we offer you breakfast? We have eggs. And tomatoes. Oh, huevos rancheros!”

Jake was sure he saw Holt’s unyielding demeanor falter for a second at even the suggestion of Amy cooking him food. “Detective, you do understand that I haven’t come here at this hour simply for a social call?” replied the captain.

“Oh,” said Amy, as if this was a genuine disappointment. “Oh well, that’s probably for the best. I’m not so good at Mexican food.”

“So I guess you can add that to both Cuban and American food,” said Jake, “and possibly all cuisines known to the civilized world.” He turned to the captain. “Potential salmonella risks aside, sir, what does bring you to this cozy corner of our borough?”

“You asked for a warrant for Kauffman’s property,” said Holt, furrowing his eyebrows as if that much was obvious. He tossed a manila envelope on the kitchen table. “We got one for his house and it turned up nothing, so I requested one for his work premises as well. That was not easy to get. I had to meet with Judge Mindel, but she was happy to grant one once I’d explained the situation.”

“Yeeeah, I bet she was,” said Amy, with a leer.

Jake shook his head and mouthed _‘what?’_ at her. She grimaced.

“So what did you turn up, sir?” asked Jake, picking up the envelope.

“You should probably take a look yourselves.”

But Jake had already ripped open the brown paper and was looking through the contents. They were mainly photographs and, as he flipped through each image, Jake understood the nature of Maliadri’s plans; he didn’t just want a quick hit on Jake to get him out of the picture. He wanted revenge. 

“What?” asked Amy.

Holt was still looking at Jake. “It seems they’ve been using Kauffman’s security company to watch you, Peralta. Very closely.”

It was true. Every image was clearly taken from public surveillance cameras: Jake in a parking lot, Jake in a supermarket. For the first few images, he was alone, but there were the odd few which featured him with the guys from the precinct. The time stamps on the pictures told him that Maliardi had been watching him for some time before he’d seen Tommy Farina standing outside the park that day.

“Wow, now I know how Brangelina feel,” said Jake, with a laugh that did nothing to hide how cold his insides felt. 

And then he saw the later shots.

“What is it?” asked Amy again, but from her hesitant tone Jake knew his own alarm must be obvious. He couldn’t tell her though. How the hell could he tell her something like this? Because in the week leading up to that day in the park, almost every shot was of him and Amy. Nothing out of the ordinary, just dull shots of them going about their day together, leaving the precinct, picking up coffee. Some of them, most alarmingly, of Amy on her own.

“I don’t understand,” he said, though, horribly, he did.

“That’s… me.” Jake had been so preoccupied with the photographs, he hadn’t noticed Amy come to stand next to him. She was peering over his shoulder at the black and images of herself. She sounded more puzzled than concerned and took some of the photos from his hand. “Why would Maliardi be interested in me?”

Jake shared a look with Holt, and it was all right there in the Captain’s expression. Holt’s eyes fell to the only photograph left in Jake’s hand, and Jake saw then the truth of why Freddy was interested in Amy.

Despite the timestamp, he didn’t know what job they’d been on or where they’d been when the photo had been taken. It could have been any one of the days they spent in the sedan, staking out a warehouse at the docks, or drinking coffee, or just talking about nothing. But he knew what had happened at the exact moment the camera had caught them. He’d made Amy laugh. She was facing away from him, looking out through the windshield and, instead of the usual barely suppressed grins she allowed herself at his jokes, she had given in to a full, open-mouthed, crinkle-eyed laugh.

He might not know exactly what they’d been doing, or what he had said, but he knew how he’d been feeling when he’d looked at her. And so would anyone else who looked at the picture. It was right there in the way he stared at her, every sorry ache he’d ever felt in his chest, every breath he’d ever found hard to come by when he was with her, captured in the low res of some security camera. And now she was in Maliardi’s line of sight because of it.

This was all his fault.

He dared a look at Amy. She was staring at the photo in his hand with a stunned expression. There was no way to play this one down, no possible pretence that it was all in the past, that his feelings for her had been a brief thing, a momentary crush held many moons ago.

“Ames…”

She laughed, a phony sound, and looked between Holt and Jake. “Well, that’s… that’s stupid,” she said, with a gesture towards the photo. “Is that what all of this is about? That is just so stupid. What, does Freddy think he can get to Jake by coming after me? Well let him try –”

“Amy…”

“No, Jake.” Her voice was brittle now, this truth clearly unbearable to her. “Let him try. Does he think it means you’ll care more if it’s me they target and not you? Same difference, right? He’s made a huge mistake if he thinks that stupid photograph means anything. I mean, I once saw a picture that made it look like a dog was riding an invisible motorcycle. It wasn’t. It wasn’t riding anything. It was just a dumb picture.”

With every rambling word she uttered, Jake felt his stomach sink even further; ridiculous, of course, to dwell on the eagerness of her denial when their lives – _her_ life – could be in danger. He’d focus on what was important and do whatever it took to make sure she stayed well out of harm’s way.

It didn’t stop it from hurting like a sonofabitch.

He was glad when Captain Holt cleared his throat and stopped her mid-flow. “I think, Detective Santiago, that what’s important is what Freddy Maliardi believes to be true rather than what is actually true. And going by that photo, he thinks…” Holt took a breath as if uncomfortable saying the words out loud.

Jake decided to save him the job. “He thinks I’m in love with you.” _Band-aid off, blood everywhere._

Amy said nothing.

“Indeed,” said Holt. “And we need to close him down once and for all, before he makes his move. We’re close. Detective Diaz has obtained a solid lead through one of her gigglepig contacts. Until then…”

_Please don’t say it._

“…you both have to stay put. Neither of you leave this apartment until we have Maliardi and his cronies in custody.”

“Great,” said Jake. But when he risked a glance at Amy and saw the panic on her face, he thought that perhaps if she had the choice between Maliardi and him right now, he might not come off so well.


	9. Things said and unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This, she realized, was breaking point. This was the moment their friendship would fracture beyond all repair and, in all honesty, she almost welcomed it.

It was a brittle silence that Captain Holt left in his wake. Jake leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, not meeting Amy’s eye. 

Fine. If he wanted to clam up, then let him. This was neither the time nor the place for _that_ conversation. She’d spent too long talking herself down from the possibility that there was something tangible between them, a real spark, and it was a door she couldn’t open again, not based on some hazy photograph that meant nothing. But still…

She swiped the photo from the table and went to sit on the sofa, but rather than look at it again she just let it dangle from her hand. “What is this, Jake?”  
She heard him take a breath. “C’mon, Amy.”

“That’s not even an answer.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re asking.”

She looked back at him, but he was still leaning against the counter staring at the floor. In truth, she didn’t quite know what she was asking either. There was so much unsaid between them – so much that _she_ hadn’t said. But she’d grown up with seven brothers who’d shown her affection by melting her Barbies, and giving her noogies, and beating up any other kid who dared try and bully her. All kisses and cuddles came from her mama, but if she ever dared cry in front of her brothers, she could expect name-calling and teasing for a week. You didn’t talk about feelings in the Santiago household.

But sometimes, needs must. “We can’t ignore this, Jake.”

“Are you sure? I mean, sometimes ignoring stuff really makes things a lot better. Like when everyone ignored that George Clooney tried to be Batman. Trust me, there were _no_ winners there. ”

Amy stood and rounded the sofa, brandishing the photo. “Damnit, Jake. Can’t you be serious? Like, for a second?”

He huffed a laugh that sounded nothing but sad and said, “Apparently not.”

“Jake, I’m just…” She closed her eyes, grasping for words that would capture what she was trying to say, without laying everything out on the line. She knew it was an impossible balance to strike. “I’m just trying to make sense of this.”

Jake pushed himself from the counter and came to stand in front of her, hands open in a placating gesture. “Look, Amy, you know how it was. I told you how I felt and I told you it was real. You told me you were with Teddy and we moved on. End of story. Why are you acting like this is a big deal now?”

“Why am I…?” She held up the photo. “Jake, this was two weeks ago.”

“So?”

His entire attitude was almost flippant and she started to panic. Was this not a big deal to him? Was this just like those times before when he’d rocked her to her very core and then left her with reeling with some nonchalant quip? When she’d debated every choice she’d made and every choice that lay in front of her, while Jake Peralta acted like the admission he’d made was no more important than telling her what ice cream flavor he preferred. Just like those times before, she was on the verge of making a fool of herself and she had to rein it in. Expect maybe she couldn’t. Except, this time, maybe she wouldn’t.

“So? So how about you tell me what’s really going on and stop dropping bombs on me and then leaving me to try and figure out what happened from the pieces you leave behind.”

Jake’s brow creased and he looked almost hurt. “When have I ever done that?”

“For God sake’s, Jake! You told me you liked me “romantic stylez” – as if that’s anything anyone outside of a frat house says – and then you leave! For six months, you leave me. On my own, to make sense of what you said –”

“Hey, I had no choice but to leave.”

“Oh, so you chose that moment to tell me? You couldn’t pick a better time when we could talk about it?”

“Well I wanted to talk about it when I got back, but you couldn’t wait to tell me that you were still with Teddy.”

“What the hell did you think I was going to say? That I ditched him on some lame confession from you?” She was shouting now, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. This, she realized, was breaking point. This was the moment their friendship would fracture beyond all repair and, in all honesty, she almost welcomed it. Because something had to change; something had to quell the awful tension that had spun itself out between them in the months since he’d returned. 

“I didn’t want you to ditch anyone,” said Jake, his tone defensive.

Amy drew back, shaking her head. “No, you didn’t, did you? Because that would require you stepping up and actually making a decision, huh?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve never had the guts to be honest with me.”

“You’re kidding me, right? I’ve been nothing but honest with you. You’re the one who couldn’t be straight with me. Couldn’t you have given me something, Amy? Anything, so that I wasn’t left to find out how you _maybe_ felt three months later. From Teddy of all people. How do you think that made me feel?”

They were toe to toe now and Amy couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever felt so angry with Jake. Not annoyance, not amused irritation, but proper anger that blindsided her and set her heart beating hard in her chest. “That’s the point, Jake. I don’t know how it made you feel. I don’t because I –” She bit the words off and pressed her lips together.

In truth, his feelings couldn’t have been clearer that night upstate. Because after that excruciating conversation at dinner, after the way he’d looked at her…

_You like Amy?_

_Do you, Jake? Please say yes. Please just say it once more._

… after that frozen moment when it was just the two of them, after all of that, he’d gone upstairs and knocked on Sophia’s door. He’d chosen Sophia while Amy had packed Teddy’s things and left them outside the door, and then gone to bed to cry choked sobs into a pillow that wasn’t her own.

And she was glad he’d chosen Sophia, because that’s what Jake would do – the right thing. He was with Sophia and all had turned out as it should.

Until now, when it was all too late.  
He sighed. “Amy—”

“Never mind,” she said, tired suddenly, though she’d only woken an hour before. “I guess you’re right. We just wait till they catch Maliardi and everything will go back to how it was before.”

Jake took a breath and opened his mouth, but paused and then grinned in that way that told Amy he was feeling awkward as hell. “That’s right. You go back to being the second best detective in Brooklyn and I go back to being a hard-nosed but brilliant lone wolf cop, jaded by the streets and haunted by –”

“Stop it, Jake.” His shtick, rather than being funny, jarred in Amy’s ears. “Just stop it.”

She tossed the photo towards the table and it zigzagged through the air. Without waiting to see where it landed, she headed back into the bedroom and closed the door. She didn’t come out for the rest of the day, the thin plasterboard walls forming a barrier between them that may as well have been ten feet thick. From the living room she could hear Jake flipping through channels on the TV with the volume turned up way too loud, before settling on some shopping channel. Amy considered going out to tell him to turn the damn thing down, but didn’t think she could face him again just yet.

So she put in her earbuds and listened to some Aretha while trying to concentrate on the pulp novel she’d found on the bookshelf. It didn’t stop her thinking, or questioning the things she’d said, or wondering if their friendship was now truly beyond repair. The hours passed, but no answers came.

She hadn’t meant to sleep, and so was surprised when she opened her eyes to streetlights slanting through the blinds into the darkened room. Her book was on the floor and Aretha had long since stopped singing. The only noise in the apartment was the sound of the TV, still trying to sell junk to a gullible audience. And it was so loud! How the hell could Jake listen to –?

“Damnit, Jake!” Amy yanked out the earbuds and ran to the bedroom door. She knew what she’d find even before she pulled it open. The room beyond was empty. Jake was gone.


	10. Fits like old clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake finds himself in old territory - and in a lot of trouble!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter, folks! RL got crazy, showing its usual disrespect for fannish pursuits.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

There was a time, around six months earlier, when the streets of Red Hook had become as familiar to Jake as the lines on his palm. It was a funny thing, being undercover. You knew that you were there for a reason – to put the bad guys away. But the thing about going undercover was that those bad guys were the people you spent your days with. The people you laughed with and drank with; people you Joeled with. And the fact was, no matter what you knew about their rap sheet, with some of those guys, it was hard to shoot the shit each day and not come to like them. And so the streets you walk when you’re undercover – when you’re in character – take on a different atmosphere. 

Walking them now, Jake felt out of sorts; jittery and self-conscious. A lot of that, he knew, was because he could not look more like a cop if he was in full dress uniform. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d long for a velour leisure suit and heavy gold chain. Every surveillance camera he passed, he got the impression that its little black lens was watching him. But he shrugged the feeling off. This outing was never about being inconspicuous, and if Maliardi was watching him make his incursion into hostile territory right now, then so much the better.

Jake had known exactly what he needed to do before Holt had even left the apartment. He couldn’t sit around on his ass doing nothing, not while Maliardi had Amy in his sights. If he hadn’t acted like such a lovesick teenager she wouldn’t have been a target in the first place. As soon as he’d seen those surveillance camera shots of her, he’d decided what he would do next.

The conversation afterwards had made that decision easier, while, at the same time, more difficult. The scab, indeed, had bled like a bullet to the gut, but he had no time to clean up the mess. He only hoped that Amy would understand.

It hadn’t been easy leaving her in the apartment like that – in the hours he’d spent waiting for darkness to fall, he’d debated the point back and forth with himself – but if he’d let her in on his plan, she would’ve tried to stop him. And that just wasn’t an option. 

Summer showers had left the streets shiny and slick, and there was a chill in the air that told him there was more rain to come. Jake pulled up his hood and hunkered further into his jacket, wishing he was back in the safehouse watching bad movies with Amy. By the time he reached his destination, he was soaked.

Benny’s Trattoria was a place that tried real hard to be classier than it was. The food was good and the interior cosy, but when Sandy swept through, she'd given the roof and façade a beating – and when all was said and done, linen table covers and Christmas lights didn’t make up for the fact that it was smack bang in the middle of Red Hook. 

During his time undercover, he’d grown to genuinely like Benny; he was just a guy trying to keep his head down and survive in a rat’s nest. But despite the man’s best efforts, his restaurant was never going to be _Del Posto._ Still, it was low-key and off the beaten track and, up until the FBI sting had wiped out most of their number, the Ianuccis had used it as an occasional meeting place. It had occurred to Jake that the prospect of stepping into the power gap left in their wake would be more attractive to Maliardi than the need to hide out from the law. Which was why he’d decided that this was the best place to lure Freddy out into the open - using Jake shaped bait. 

He knew that as soon as he walked through the door, he was setting in motion a chain of events that couldn’t be stopped. But one way or another, this had to end and that clearly wouldn’t happen while he was holed up in a safehouse. Freddy wanted him? Freddy would get him. And then, finally, Jake would get Freddy.

He bounced on his feet a few times, psyching himself up to go in, checked his sidearm underneath his jacket for the thousandth time, and then pushed open the door. It was kind of disappointing that there was no sudden hush at his entrance. A few diners glanced at him disinterestedly, but no heads turned in shock to witness the return of the infamous Jakey the Jew (he refused to accept the Ladyfingers tag). It was something of an anti-climax.

The door to the kitchen swung open and Jake was given some pay-off when Benny stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him, mouth open. Jake pasted on his hugest shit-eating grin and opened his arms. “Benneeee.” 

The grin froze as Benny came barreling towards him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Just, y’know, re-visiting the old turf. I guess I missed – okay.” Jake tried not to stumble as Benny grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the back of the restaurant. He realized, with gut-dropping certainty, that he was probably about ten seconds away from a bullet through his head and, not for the first time since he left the safehouse, found himself wishing that he’d let Amy in on his plan. At the very least, she’d be able to tell them which part of the Hudson to dredge for his body.

He forced himself to keep his eyes open as Benny pushed him through the door to the private dining area where Filipo Iannucci used to hold court in the huge round booth. Freddy would be there, he realized. He’d decided to slink out of the woodwork to prove his place at the head of the family by dispatching the courageous, indefatigable G-man…

 _You’re not a G-man_ , said Amy in his head.

… who’d brought down his empire…  


_Wasn’t really an empire, was it? More like a two-bit numbers racket out of Fort Greene_

…and left him hiding like a rat in some stinking hole…

_He was in Barbados._

Shut up, Amy.

But sitting at the booth, he found… no one. Jake glanced back at Benny, who, glowering, said, “Sit.” Still wary, he complied. There didn’t seem to be much choice.  
Benny slid in to the seat opposite. After a few beats of silence, the man took a breath and leaned back on the red faux-leather upholstery. “What is it you think you’re doing, kid?” He sounded more chiding than angry, like when Jake’s Uncle Maury found out he’d stolen the beers he stored in his garage and was selling them to his fifth grade friends. It wasn’t the theft Maury had been pissed at, more the fact that Jake hadn’t given the booze a big enough mark up.

Jake shrugged. “Just looking to see if there are any jobs needing an extra man. Cash is pretty tight since –”

“Don’t bullshit me. We know you’re a cop.”

“I _was_ a –”

“You _are_ a cop. I ain’t an idiot. But it seems you are.” Benny leaned forward and Jake thought he seemed almost concerned. “Jakey, don’t you know who’s looking for you? Why’d you come round here? What’s in your head, kid?”

Jake lifted his eyes to meet Benny’s. It was an excellent question, and one he had no way of answering. He didn’t know what was in his head. He hadn’t for almost a year. “Aren’t you going to call him?”

“That’s what you want, huh?” Benny spread his hands. “I ain’t gonna lie. It would go well for me if I did. And it will _not_ go well for me if I don’t. Trust me, kid. If you’ve just walked all the way through Red Hook, Freddy Maliardi already knows you’re here. So my advice would be to haul ass out of here – _now._ ”

Squinting in confusion, Jake said, “Why would you wanna help me? You’re a family guy.”

“Oh Jake, pal, I’m far from a family guy. I’m a guy who grew up in a neighborhood where you got along or you got out. I got along. And I ain’t dead yet. Doesn’t mean I can’t try and do right when the chance comes along. So here’s the thing: I like you, Jake. We’ve Joelled together, for God’s sakes!”

Jake nodded sagely. “Piano man does create a lifelong bond.”

“And you know what? Before I even heard you were the one who put the family away, I knew you weren’t one of them. I knew you were a good kid. There’s a look, y’see, that a man gets in his eyes when he’s crossed that line where a knife through a man’s throat won’t lose him any sleep. You didn’t have it.” Benny leaned back again and lifted his chin to look at Jake down the length of his nose. “You still don’t. And call me an old sentimentalist, but I’d prefer you stayed that way. So why don’t you leave by the backdoor and I’ll tell Freddy you got spooked and ran.”

Jake looked down, picking at a piece of the table where the veneer had worn away. “I can’t. I have to wait for Freddy.”

There was a beat of silence before Benny said, “The girl, huh?”

Jake’s head snapped up. “What?”

“The girl. The one they were going to grab. She’s the reason you’re here.”

A beat of panic jolted through him. “They’re going to grab Amy? When?” 

Benny held up his hands. “Relax, Jake. That was their plan. But she went off their radar, just like you. Until you wandered in here, I figured maybe you two had run off together. Maybe you’d seized the day, so to speak, when you found out Freddy was after you both. Nothing like the threat of getting knocked off to inspire a little romance, huh?”

Jake sighed, calming a little, knowing that Amy was back at the apartment, still off Maliardi’s radar. But it seemed everyone in Brooklyn was laughing at his pathetic crush. “You saw the photo?”

“What photo? I didn’t need to see no photo,” said Benny. “I heard them talking about how they were going to take some Latino chick you were pining over. That it was how they’d draw you out, get back at you. Looks like it worked. 

Anyway, it made me think of that one night you sat out there in the bar and got neck deep in a bottle of Jameson’s. You were whining on and on about the girl you’d left behind, and how she’d probably be married or some shit by the time you got back, yaddayadda. I gotta say, you get a little mawkish when you’re drunk. But that shit you were sayin’?” Benny shrugged, a sympathetic gesture. “I can tell when something’s real. And, kid, you got it bad.”

Jake hung his head. He remembered that night, mostly because of the dread he’d felt in the morning that he’d blown his cover and that some mob lackey would be waiting in his stairwell with a .38 and a suppressor. The Iannuccis had been out of town for a family gathering and Jake had stupidly let his guard down, getting drunk at Benny’s and letting his Amy-related sorrows consume him. He hadn’t been able to remember exactly what he’d said, and so was relieved that no repercussions had come from it – until now.

But it was no use denying it. “Did you tell –?”

Benny waved his hand at him. “I didn’t tell no-one. But the way you were talking? Jakey, son, those kindsa feelings tend to come out, for good or for bad. And I gotta tell you, this situation you’re in right now? It ain’t good.”

Well, wasn’t that the truth? “That’s why I’m here, Benny. I have to end this once and for all. I can’t…” He swallowed and pressed his eyes closed briefly. “I can’t let her get involved in this. So, if Freddy wants me, he can have me. No dispute from me.”

Benny tucked his tongue into his back teeth and then said, “No dispute, huh?”

“Nope, not a bit.”

“Glock sitting under your jacket says different.”

Jake tried hard to keep all expression from his face. He had his jacket zipped and knew his firearm was completely hidden from sight. Perhaps Benny wasn’t the simple schmuck he pretended to be.

“Just a little insurance, Benny.”

“Jake, come on, you gotta know you ain’t got a chance. Get outta here before Freddy arrives.”

For the first time, Jake started to doubt his plan. He should’ve called for back-up, he should’ve let Holt handle this, and he should’ve told Amy what he intended. But it was all moot now. He was committed to this course and couldn’t turn back.

_Head first, right?_

“Benny, I can’t. I just –”

The door to the dining area banged open, and both Jake and Benny spun at the sound. And when Jake saw the angry face of the person standing there, his gut sank and he realized the true extent of the shit-storm he was in.

“Amy,” he said, “I promise I can explain.”


	11. What goes around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There were many scenarios where Jake had imagined himself in an enclosed space with Amy. A cubicle in the men’s room of a third-rate Red Hook trattoria wasn’t one of them."
> 
> Jake and Amy find themselves in enemy territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so it's been waaaay too long since I last updated this story, but as always RL got in the way and I found myself with actual work related writing to do.
> 
> So, for those of you who've been following this story, I'm so sorry for the delay and I hope I haven't lost you. I'm hoping to get the final chapters up over the next week

There were many scenarios where Jake had imagined himself in an enclosed space with Amy. A cubicle in the men’s room of a third-rate Red Hook trattoria wasn’t one of them. He was only thankful that the toilet bowl looked clean, and chalked one up for Benny’s housekeeping.

“Amy, I think you’re –”

“I swear, Jake, if you tell me I’m over-reacting I will give you a swirly worse than you ever had in junior high.”

“ – really pretty tonight. I was totally going to say I think you’re really pretty tonight.” 

She set her jaw at the obvious lie, and Jake pressed his lips together. It wasn’t what he was going to say of course – that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. But then he thought she was really pretty every night. And she smelled… he fought the urge to lean forward and take a breath, but she smelled… familiar? 

“Are you wearing my deodorant?” The question was just out of his mouth when he realized that it was most definitely not appropriate, given their current situation.

“What? No! Well, yeah…It was the only thing in the bathroom!” she hissed.

He bit off his reply in a rare moment of awareness. Because he knew it wasn’t the only thing in the bathroom. He could clearly remember seeing Amy’s toiletries set out in a straight line on the bathroom shelf. He could remember smiling at the row of gender-targeted pinks and purples that were such a contradiction of Amy, yet at the same time, so very fitting. He remembered deliberately not picking up the body spray that he’d known would smell exactly like her, the one with a scent like baby powder.

He wanted to revel in the fact that she was wearing his deodorant, and also mock just a little, but he was all too aware that they were crushed in a toilet stall because he’d been a total idiot and walked right into the lion’s den in a misguided attempt to ‘save’ Amy, only to have her follow him here. Because she was a New York cop and not a 1940s Disney princess. Perhaps he was an idiot not to have expected this all along.

“Are you an idiot, Jake?”

“No!”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you?”

Amy’s eyes bugged out. “I’m doing my job, Peralta. Your job was to lay low in the safe house and mine was to watch out for you.” She looked around at the cramped enclosure. “And this doesn’t look much like the safe house, does it?”

“Amy, I just…” Jake dropped back against the cubicle wall and looked up at the ceiling. In truth, he couldn’t quite explain this without a lot of other things needing explained too. “I’m just trying to catch the bad guy.” Not quite the truth, but enough of it.

“Jake, come on,” her voice was soft, and he dared a look at her, but couldn’t quite grasp what he was seeing in her eyes. “You gotta let this go,” she said.

 _Let what go_ , he wanted to ask, because he was scared suddenly, terrified in fact, that she meant _this_ … them – whatever that might be. And if she asked, he’d have no choice but to comply; he couldn’t bear it if she thought of him as that guy, the one who couldn’t take no for an answer, the entitled asshole who didn’t understand that a woman being nice to him didn’t equate to a come on. A guy like the Vulture. If she told him to stop this now, then of course he’d stop. The fact that it would break his heart was neither here nor there.

“Maliadri will be caught.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “It just might not be you who catches him.”

Relief tapped at the door to his brain, but he wasn’t sure if he should let it in just yet. Was she trying to tell him something else? “But I just want him to know how much I want to catch him,” he ventured.

“I’m sure he does.”

“I mean, I don’t want him to get freaked out by how much I want to catch him.”

“Um… alright,” said Amy, her lips pulled down in a frown. 

“Okay, so just me with that metaphor, huh?” said Jake.

“I don’t…”

“Alright, never mind,” he said, with an overbright smile, “let’s get out of here before Freddy comes then, huh?”

“Yes, let’s,” she replied, pushing open the cubicle door. It was stopped halfway.

“Oh, but why so eager to go?” said the figure standing by the sinks. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting your little girlfriend, Jakey. What’s say we get to know each other a little more?” Freddy Maliardi gestured to the goon who had stopped the stall door. The thickset man grabbed both their shoulders in a meaty fist and hauled them out into the bathroom. “We got a lotta catching up to do, Jake. Like how things have been after you snitched on us.”

Maliardi’s smile disappeared and Jake wondered if the last thing he and Amy would ever see would be the floor tiles of the men’s room in Benny’s Trattoria.

~~~

This was predictable, thought Amy. Jake walks slapbang into Freddy Maliardi’s territory and she follows straight after. Of course they’d get caught. And of course they’d end up tied to chairs in the storeroom. She wasn’t sure if she’d have counted on Freddy’s cohorts being complete morons, but judging by the guy who was struggling to knot the rope around her wrists, she’d underestimated their brainpower. She darted a glance at Jake and knew he was almost definitely thinking about how this was the sort of situation superheroes always found themselves in.

He leaned over to her. “Hey, did you ever see that episode of Batman –?”

“Shut up, Jake.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, Jake. Listen to your girlfriend and shut up, will ya?” Maliardi’s nasal whine leant nothing to how threatening this situation should be. They’d spent a week fearing this guy as if he had the criminal mind of one of the Ianuccis themselves, when in actual fact it seemed like he was all braggadocio. The dick behind her was still having trouble with a simple handcuff knot.

“Hey Freddy,” said Jake. “I know we’re all, like, hating on each other on account of how you’re a scumbag criminal and I’m a crusading lawman who wants to put you away, but can’t we just avoid violence and talk about this?”

Despite the obvious sarcasm, Maliardi obviously took Jake’s words at face value. “Why the hell would I want to talk to you? I spent eight months on some pisswater island because of you. Louis, ain’t you done?” This last was called to the guy tying Amy’s wrists.

“Yes, the tourist board of Barbados thanks you for your glowing review. Pisswater island is a new one on them. What, the pina coladas didn’t have enough umbrellas?”

Freddy frowned, as if he knew he was being mocked, but couldn’t quite figure out how. “Alright, enough! I don’t want to talk to you, Jake. I only talk to people I don’t want to kill. So less of the talking, more of the shooting, huh? Louis, for chrissakes!”

“I’m trying boss, but these ropes you got are so slippy. I only ever done three types of knot on my fishing boat before.”

“Get outta my way,” said Maliardi. “I’ll tie the damn thing myself.”

And Amy knew then that she had to take her chance. “Hey, Freddy, how’d you think you’d take us with only two guys to help you?”

As Maliardi frowned, she turned to Jake, who also looked confused. A quick flick of her eyes to her rear soon cleared things up for him and she saw understanding dawn on his face.

“Whaddaya mean, two guys? I got three here.” He gestured to the two goons on either side of him and then lastly to Louis, still crouched behind Amy’s chair. She threw herself and the chair backwards, trapping poor thumb-fingered Louis between it and the floor. He didn’t move and Amy guessed she’d caught his head in the collision. Her hands free, she spun round, pulling out the Springfield .45 she’d already spotted in his waistband.

“Don’t you move, Freddy,” she shouted, leveling the gun. “Back up, hands above your head. Get back to that wall.”

“Uh, Amy?”

She hadn’t forgotten about him, but Jake was looking a little stricken, still tied to his chair. Louis had managed a simple but effective knot around his wrists, before slippy rope challenges had apparently gotten the better of him. If she put the gun down to untie him though, one of Maliardi’s goons would have them overpowered in a second. It was more important that they get out of here. She leaned over and grabbed the back of his chair, tilting him onto the back legs and dragging him towards the fire exit behind them.

“Don’t any of you move,” she bellowed, running on pure adrenalin now, “or I swear I will cut you in half!” _Cut them in half? Really?_

Freddy and his goons obediently backed off, as her back hit the door. She pushed herself against it and felt the blessed relief of the night air hitting the nape of her neck. Jake craned back at her, clearly hating the indignity of his current situation. She bumped him down the little step that led to the back alley.

As soon as the door began to swing close she saw Freddy and the other two guys move, so she slammed the door shut with her foot. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it closed against them, so with a well aimed kick, and then another, she buckled the doorhandle so that no one would be opening that door any time soon. She heard the crash as someone threw themselves against the other side.

“So you gonna drag me all the way back to the safehouse?” 

“Well, I could do that or else I could just…” She leaned over and gave the rope binding his wrists a single tug. The knot came free.

“Embarrassing,” said Jake, rubbing where it had chafed. Someone crashed into the door again and he jumped. “How long until they remember there’s a door out front, do you think?” 

“Oh I say we don’t wait to find out.”

“An excellent idea.”

Amy didn’t resist when Jake grabbed her hand and started running.


	12. Head first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Jake had come to Red Hook for a reason – to finish this once and for all. Amy had come to rescue him, only that hadn’t gone so well. But, out of this whole mess, two things had become excruciatingly clear to Jake: the Freddy would not give up until either he or Jake was dead, and that Amy would not stop trying to snatch Jake out of the lion’s mouth at the last minute, putting herself in danger in the process, all on account of his stupidity.'
> 
> The chase is on, but can it only end one way?

Jake didn’t have any particular route in mind when he grabbed Amy’s hand and ran. He just hoped the warren of red brick warehouses that clustered round the docks would prove a good enough hiding place for them when Maliardi and his men came looking. Moronic as they were, Maliardi’s men had been thorough enough in their searches back in the stockroom, and had quickly confiscated their weapons and cellphones. Amy had the Springfield, but when she’d checked, the clip only had three shots in it. They were on their own in this, with no option open to them but to beat a hasty retreat and hope that their pursuers wouldn’t catch up.

Already he could hear shouts from somewhere behind them, calling threats about what was going to happen to them both when they were caught. The shouts seemed to come from many directions and he wondered if Freddy had brought in some more of his thugs to help with the chase. His and Amy’s footsteps seemed too loud, their echoes bouncing off the buildings, and he was sure it would give away their position. He pulled her to a stop, both of them breathing hard.

“Which way?” mouthed Amy, her hand still in his.  


He shrugged and held up his other hand, listening to the shouts and trying to pinpoint where they were coming from. “I don’t think they’re close,” he whispered. “It sounds like…”

“There you are, you sonofabitch!”

Jake whirled at the cry that came from the alleyway directly behind them. A man stood at the other end, not Maliardi, but one of his men; Jake thought it might have been the guy who got crushed under Amy’s chair. He seemed to have recovered enough to be able to hold a gun, and was pointing it right at them. The shot rang out just as Amy pulled Jake down into a crouch and the bullet sang over their heads.

They leapt up and started running again, but up ahead two other guys were advancing down between the buildings, their shadows thrown long in the yellow streetlight. Behind him, he heard the roar of an engine and the screech of tires, though he didn’t wait to see if the vehicle was also joining the chase.

“This way,” he yelled and pulled Amy to the side, darting down another alley and through the gate at the end.

“Where are we going, Jake?” She sounded scared, and though Jake knew she’d been in tense situations before, he doubted that any of them amounted to being chased by gun toting mobsters. Hell, this was by far the scariest situation he’d ever been in and he’d lived with them for six months.

“I don’t know, but if we can shake them and then find somewhere to hide and sit tight, maybe they’ll think we got away. They’ll start searching elsewhere. Then we head back to the safehouse and I swear to god I will never leave it again.” As a plan, it sucked. Maliardi had him in his sights and he doubted he’d leave the area without catching his quarry. But, for now, it was all they had. 

They zigzagged round a few corners, doubling back on themselves a couple of times. He could still hear the footsteps of the men chasing them not far behind, but they weren’t directly in their line of sight.

“Look for somewhere to hide,” he whispered.

She pointed up ahead. “What about there?”

He could almost have laughed. “Seems fitting.”

He gave Amy a boost up in to the dumpster and then hauled himself inside, closing the lid as carefully as he could. They landed in a heap on a pile of garbage bags, the delightful aroma of whatever was rotting in them wafting up. 

“Why do I always end up in a dumpster with you, Jake?” Trying to find her balance, Amy leaned against the wall and then recoiled as if she’d touched something disgusting. Her feet went out from under her and she stumbled, but when Jake leaped forward to steady her he only succeeded in losing his own footing. They both fell backward, Amy landing on Jakes stomach, her elbow hitting hard into his solar plexus, knocking the wind from him.

He groaned in pain and Amy looked over her shoulder, wincing in sympathy. She began to apologize, but Jake clamped his hand over her mouth and pulled her tight against him; he’d heard footsteps at the mouth of the alley.

“You sure they came this way?”

“How the hell should I know? All these alleys look the same to me.” 

“I wish we’d never come back to Brooklyn.”

“Hey, the boss wants revenge, the boss gets revenge.”

“Okay, so let’s find this guy and get outa here. I’m freezing my ass off.”

“What about the girl?”

“If she’s with him, take her. Boss says she’s collateral. But it’s Peralta who’s the target. Freddy won’t stop until he’s caught.” 

Amy was breathing hard against his hand that still covered her mouth and he could feel her heart beating hard through her back. If she’d been scared before, he could only guess what hearing a direct personal threat against her would do.

The footsteps moved off further down the alley. All Jake and Amy would have to do would be to sit tight and wait till they’d gone, then they could escape… until next time. 

Jake had come to Red Hook for a reason – to finish this once and for all. Amy had come to rescue him, only that hadn’t gone so well. But, out of this whole mess, two things had become excruciatingly clear to Jake: the Freddy would not give up until either he or Jake was dead, and that Amy would not stop trying to snatch Jake out of the lion’s mouth at the last minute, putting herself in danger in the process, all on account of his stupidity. So maybe it was time for one more stupid act – one that would finish this once and for all.

He sat up, turning her to face him, feeling the loss of her warmth against him. He had to do this quickly before she caught on. But if he was going to die…

“Amy,” he whispered, “you know how sometimes in the movies, when the hero is about to do something incredibly brave, he leaves the girl with something to remember him by?”

“Jake, what…?”

“Well…” Jake caught Amy’s face in his hands, pulling her towards him and capturing her lips with his. It was a kiss that was more than he’d ever imagined. Her lips against his were the only sensation he’d ever known, the feel of her hands up in his hair, her fingers against the nape of his neck. He nearly faltered in his plan when he thought about how this could be the last time he’d ever get to experience this.

But the footsteps sounded far away now and he knew he had to take this chance. They broke apart, Amy’s eyes wide, her hands still on his chest.

“Please don’t follow me,” said Jake, and pushed open the lid of the dumpster, vaulting out into the alley. “Hey! Hey, guys! Sorry I ran. You all just got super needy back there and I was hoping we could take it slow.”

Freddy’s men turned to face him, grins spreading on their faces when they realized the chase was over. As he walked towards him, Jake gave silent thanks that, for once in her life, Amy had listened to what he had to say. She didn’t follow.

~~~

For a second after Jake jumped out of the dumpster, Amy couldn’t have moved if she’d tried. That kiss… it almost made her forget the danger they were in and the dumbass move Jake had just pulled. Almost.

 _Please don’t follow me_. Like hell!

She scrambled up and over a mound of trash bags, to where the dumpster lid didn’t quite meet with the rim, and peeked out. The two men who’d been chasing them were advancing on Jake who had his hands up and was walking towards them. How could he have been so stupid?

But she knew why. Because he thought this was all his fault and he was trying to put things right. Because he didn’t want her to get hurt. Lucky then that it would be these two goons who were going to get hurt instead. She pulled the Springfield out from her shoulder holster and checked the clip again. Three shots. She’d have to make them count.  


So far, it seemed, the two men didn’t know she was there so she wanted to keep that element of surprise for a little while longer; if she missed the first shot, she’d have to make damn sure the other two found their mark. The gap in the dumpster wasn’t quite wide enough to take aim, so she put her shoulder to it and raised it just a little, hoping that Freddy’s men wouldn’t see. Just as she raised the weapon, there was a screech of tires and a white van hurtled around the corner, barely missing the corner of the building on the far side. It came to a sudden stop just feet behind the two men, and it was then she noticed one of them slide a cellphone into his pocket. He’d called for backup.

Amy silently cursed as the side door of the van opened and four other men poured out. Freddy Maliardi emerged seconds later from the passenger side. Three bullets were definitely not going to cut it and if she did make a move, they’d grab her too. She’d be useless to both of them then. Amy lowered herself down again, still watching, racking her brain to come up with a new plan. 

Freddy had his gun trained on Jake, and was talking to him as they walked towards one another, but they were too far away now for her to hear properly. She saw Jake shrug his shoulders, and from what she could see of his face, she could tell he’d just said something completely inappropriate and glib; it actually made her smile that, even in these circumstances, he could remain so very, very Jake.

But that was good. _Keep them talking, Jake. Keep them distracted while I think of something. Keep –_

Maliardi fired.

At first Amy thought it had gone wild, because Jake kept walking. But then he stumbled and went down on one knee. She clamped her hands to her mouth to stop from crying out. His hand went to the ground to steady himself and that’s when she saw the blood, black in darkness of the alley, running down his hand, mingling with the rain. His other hand went to his chest and she knew he’d been hit.

He collapsed entirely then, his body sagging as if – _no, God, please no_ – all life had gone out of him. Maliardi nodded his head, and two men from the van gathered Jake up and threw him in the back, before the others piled in too. The van was gone in seconds and Jake with it, leaving only the stain of his blood on the ground to show he’d ever been there.


	13. Friends in low places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Amy gripped the Springfield, though there was no one left for her to shoot, and leaned back against the wall of the warehouse next to the dumpster trying to gather her thoughts. A phone. She had to find a phone and call for back up. Jake was not going to die, especially not at the hands of a two-bit punk like Freddy Maliardi. She simply wouldn’t allow it to happen."
> 
> It's a race against time for Amy to find Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter to keep things going for now. Final chapter to be posted this weekend. Thanks to everyone who's still enjoying it.

Jake was dancing. His feet moved in time with the music, though he wasn’t sure how he knew the steps, or even where the music was coming from. All he was sure of was the woman in his arms. Amy smiled at him, radiant in blues and greens and purples, and he felt like he was the only man in the world. 

“I have somewhere I need to go,” he told her.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. Stay here. Stay with me.”

The floor beneath them was insubstantial and he thought they might be floating.

“I need to go.”

“Please stay. Will you stay?”

“Alright,” he said, and he would. Because it was Amy and because she’d asked and because that was all he’d ever wanted her to do.

The floor moved suddenly, or else he did, because there was nothing under his feet anymore. Instead, it was against his face, cold and hard.

_Boss, I think he’s coming round._

_If he moves, shoot him._

He thought these new voices might from a dream he was having, because why would Freddy Maliardi be out dancing with him and Amy. Freddy was in Barbados. Freddy had gotten away.

Except he wasn’t and he hadn’t.

Freddy was the one who’d shot him.

The sensation of floating was gone then, and so was Amy. Only the pain in his chest was real, piercing through the fog in his mind. He’d been shot, in the chest, and in all likelihood, he was going to die.

~~~

Jake was not going to die. Not if Amy had any say in the matter. It didn’t look good, she had to admit that – the bullet had hit him in the chest and he hadn’t been wearing a vest, neither of them had – but there was still a chance the wound was a through and through and hadn’t hit any major organs. There was a chance. There was always a chance.

Amy gripped the Springfield, though there was no one left for her to shoot, and leaned back against the wall of the warehouse next to the dumpster trying to gather her thoughts. A phone. She had to find a phone and call for back up. Jake was not going to die, especially not at the hands of a two-bit punk like Freddy Maliardi. She simply wouldn’t allow it to happen.

~~~

After taking a few shallow breaths, Jake decided that the bullet hadn’t punctured a lung. He also knew that it hadn’t hit his heart, given the fact the thing was still beating. The good news was that the shirt on his back felt as if it was soaked, so the bullet had probably made its way right out the other side of him. The bad news was, he was feeling pretty cold, and the through and through had most likely led to severe blood loss; if the impact itself hadn’t killed him, the shock probably would.

He cracked open his eyes and saw a couple of Freddy’s men standing a few yards away. They were sideways, or rather he was, sprawled on the ground of what looked like an old shipping warehouse. He tried to move and the pain made him cry out involuntarily. The men turned round, drawing their guns as they did so, and Jake realized that he might not need to wait for the shock to kill him after all.

~~~

Amy’s lungs burned. She considered her fitness level as being above average, but she hadn’t run so fast for so long since her Academy days. She was just glad that she’d worn flats before heading out to track down Jake.

For the past twenty minutes, she’d sprinted through deserted streets around the docks, cursing the modern age for making payphones obsolete; she’d found two so far and both of them were vandalized beyond use. Then, up ahead, she heard voices and she nearly sobbed with relief. 

Turning a corner she saw two women standing up ahead, but as she ran towards them, their expressions simultaneously turned to those of alarm. “No, please,” she called. “You have to help me.”

“Detective, we were just waiting for a cab here,” said one, her heavily mascaraed eyes widening. “Also, you gotta tell us you’re a cop, or else that’s like whaddayacallit?

“Entrapment,” offered her friend, pulling her ill-fitting faux fur jacket across a red tube top that wasn’t quite holding all of her inside.

Amy leaned over, her hands on her knees, taking gulps of air. “First of all, no it’s not - you guys really need to stop watching bad TV. Secondly, I’m not here to bust you.”

“You’re not?” said the first woman, still suspicious. “Well, whaddaya want?”

“Do any of you have a cellphone?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s 2015. We ain’t savages, honey.”

“Please can I borrow it? I’m a cop and my partner’s been shot and kidnapped, and I have to call for backup.”

The woman pursed her lips. “I don’t know… I’m not sure I like the idea of the NYPD having record of my cell number.”

Amy felt the panic threaten to spill over. Her eyes burned; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to crying. “Oh please! I swear this is not a sting. He got shot and I don’t know where the van headed or where they’ve taken him, but I have to–” She pulled herself up short and took a breath, fighting for calm. “I have to find him,” she said in a calmer voice.

The bustiered woman tilted her head, an expression a little like sympathy crossing her face. “Oh Janice, come on. Look at her. We gotta help. Here, honey, use mine.” She reached into her voluminous purse and pulled out a smartphone, about two generations ahead of the one Amy owned – or used to own. The woman must’ve registered Amy’s appraisal. “Nice, huh? I’ve had a good month. Congressman,” she added by way of explanation. 

“Thank you,” said Amy. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Hey, if you’re ever picked up by the nine-nine, just ask for Amy Santiago. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Did you say they took your partner in a van?” asked Janice.

“Yes,” said Amy, dialing. “A white van. Did you see it?”

Janice looked at her friend. “I told you that was Louis driving,” she muttered, before turning back to Amy. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you just say it was Freddy Maliardi who had your partner? Because it seems to me you’re gonna need all the help you can get.”

~~~


End file.
